


A Gentle Stroke

by RenaRoo



Series: Cass Appreciation Prompts [37]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bi-Nervous, F/F, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 10:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13269759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaRoo/pseuds/RenaRoo
Summary: Harper Row comes out of retirement for a night patrol with Cassandra Cain, and as comforting as that is it's the aftermath of the patrol that might send her into conniptions.





	A Gentle Stroke

**Author's Note:**

> batmanofwestcoast prompted: Cass and Harper, Touch
> 
> A/N: Sorry for the wait, this week got crazy but this was fun to write and it’s been a good while since I wrote this ship or even just Harper in general so thank you so much for the prompt! It was a lot of fun!

When it happened, Bluebird was almost  _certain_ it had been an accident.

They were celebrating, in the short breathless way that vigilantes of Gotham did after finishing off a particularly dangerous mission together. It had been a long time since Harper Row and donned the suit she once crafted with her own hands and got herself dirty for the sake of the city, but she remembered how these sorts of things went. A wisp of condensed breath in the brittle harbor winds, the easy glances between friends behind masks, smiles of accomplishment hidden underneath labored breaths.

There was a real sense of  _you did good, kid_ , hanging between herself and the enigmatic Orphan.

Foundations of friendship, embittered ties tested by a twisted past. They were young women, but they carried the aged old souls of soldiers from their lives.

Harper was never really one who was lost on words so she began to say something in turn toward Cassandra. Ask her how much of her larger perp count came from watching over Harper’s rusty back. But those were words which didn’t come out because the aptly named Orphan was moving in toward her first.

The question of  _what_ was in Harper’s throat and she was ready to turn around expectantly for someone they missed coming at her. But there was no time for thought or movement or even  _response_ because…

Cassandra’s mask had been lifted, just over to the bridge of her nose, over her chin and her chapped lips.

And then her gloved hand was on Harper’s cheek, presenting the most gentle of caresses while a small but certain smile of  _thanks_ matching on Cass’ face.

The other girl had wanted Harper to see her mouth, the slight flush in her cheeks or the way the cold air steamed out from between her teeth. And she wanted the unguarded parts of Harper’s cheeks to feel the roughness of leather wrapped around her fingers and the texture of the stitches which held the glove together.

It was the most gentle of touches, a stroke with the palm of Cassandra’s hand, and it was so tender and warm in the moment that Harper forgot they were behind a warehouse on the Dixon Harbor surrounded by unconscious felons with a penchant for illegal firearms.

And then Cass moved on, probably certain of some alert system or police contact or  _something_ that was about to break up the moment between them anyway. It was hard telling with Cass sometimes.

So Harper was left instead, a bit dumbfounded and oblivious. She was taken off guard because there was almost nothing that could be counted as  _normal_ with the situation at hand. After all, when had it  _ever_ been normal social etiquette to do  _that_ let alone  _then?_

Overthinking like it was her third major, Harper considered that Cass’ understanding of social norms was something they were still working on even a few years later and that there was a certain loving nature with the girl that had endeared her to everyone in spite of or even because of the horrors of her past. It wasn’t as if she could just  _assume_ what was meant by Cassandra’s caress. It was just a gentle touch, a stroke, a gesture that was going to cause Harper to lose every semblance of sense in her very, very bi mind at that moment.

The dumbfounded nature she was showing was more than a little uncharacteristic and as such, she was quick to snap herself out of it once she glanced up and saw that Cassandra, fully masked again, had actually double backed from her disappearing trick and was looking worriedly toward Harper for having not already followed. A well deserved amount of scrutiny to say the least.

Plus, the police sirens were closing in.

“Keep your shit together, Row,” Harper grimaced, smacking herself in the forehead before jogging toward the very shadows that Cass had already picked for their escape.

Once they left the scene of their triumph, an uncomfortable silence fell between Bluebird and Orphan. The kind where one was not quite sure what to make of the other’s without thinking to break they own vow.

Awkward, Harper’s mind finally decided on.  _Awkward_ was the name of their game. And Harper kind of hated it.

One of the things which had most defined their friendship and, in turn, had made Harper the happiest about having gotten Cass in her life, was the fact that there really hadn’t been anything left to get awkward about. The bonds they forged in spite of how the past tried to define them and their relationship had put them beyond those sorts of things.

It was why a retired Harper Row, rusty and sleep deprived from a few semesters of engineering finals, was willing to take a week night and roam streets and rooftops as Bluebird. Because that was just how comfortable that Cassandra, the Orphan, made her.

No one in the world was safer in those days than they were under Cass’ wing.

So why did that same generosity and gentleness make everything  _so damn awkward_ back there.

A far enough distance away from their fighting grounds, Harper, already a few strides behind Cass, skidded to a stop and held up her hands as her head shook. “Okay, okay,  _okay._ Stop. Wait. Reverse. We need to go back to a few moments ago.”

Gracefully, Cassandra turned on her heels and faced Harper. Even beneath her face mask, there was a notable sense of confusion.

“What did you…  _lose?_ Cass asked, fumbling a bit with the last word from a lack of regular use.

“I didn’t lose anything,” Harper assured her. “We don’t have to, like,  _physically_ get back there. I just. Well. I might have to recalibrate some of my meters here.” She knew the analogy was utterly lost on Cassandra, but the girl showed the usual patience of a saint anyway. Harper made a distinct note in her mind to cash in some of her  _IOU_ ’s built up from Tim and Steph to demand one of them explain the concept of gaydar to their friend.

“Okay?” Cassandra said, shifting her weight on to the balls of her feet then resting back.

Like everything else Cassandra did in her life, each motion was calculated, every muscle restrained. There was purpose in the stretch of every fiber of her being.

Which was the issue or the  _not_ issue of the moment because if everything had purpose and meaning then there was a purpose or meaning behind the stroke of a hand and if that happened then, well, Cassandra had done something vey deliberate. But why. Because Harper wasn’t sure if anything Cass meant was what Harper and most people would  _think_ was meant and—

She was overthinking again.

“Harper?” Cass asked curiously.

There was caution and control in Cassandra’s voice. She said Harper’s  _name_ and not her codename which was also layered in meaning and personalbility not often used in the field. And then there was the simple emotion of the moment, like she didn’t understand what Harper was doing either. Which was bad, because  _Harper_ didn’t know what she was doing or why she was  _so thrown_ by a moment of intimacy which was…

And that was when Harper’s mind hit pause again and the reason she was so startled was because that  _touch_ and that  _moment_ felt like something truly intimate and  _more_ than anything Harper had shared with another person in a very long time and she—

Her very, very bi brain needed to know if she was misreading things. Because that was what very, very bi brains sometimes did.

“Orphan,” Harper started, but then realized that it was misleadingly formal since the formality ice had been broken by Cass already. “ _Cassie_ ,” which was way too casual and honestly she couldn’t remember if anyone had ever non-jokingly called Cass that before. There was something very  _broken_ about Harper’s incredibly bi brain at that point. “Listen. Cass.”

For her part, Cassandra stood quietly and patiently, head somewhat tilted. She said nothing, but it wasn’t like that was exactly abnormal.

“Cass, you and I. What I mean. Back there,” Harper waved toward the docks and froze because coherency was suddenly far more difficult than her physics homework. “Shit.” And when that made Cassandra’s head tilt in the other direction, Harper’s heartbeat increased almost tenfold. “Uh. Good job?”

That, at least, earned a soft smile and Cass nodded. “You too.”

They stood opposite of each other for a few more moments, awkwardness on top of additional awkwardness.

“So. You like,” Harper paused again and sorted through nerves before motioning to her cheek that still felt a bit warm despite thermodynamics not quite working that way. “You touched me.”

“Yes,” Cass answered back in a sort of very nonchalant way that could have gutted a lesser bisexual immediately.

Harper, by necessity though, was built of stronger stuff. “Was that like… what kind of touch did  _you_ think it was?”

Suddenly, Cassandra looked incredibly confused. “… types of…  _touches?”_ she tried to clarify.

“Yeah, sorry, this is weird, but I won’t sleep for the next two days already because of that coffee habit I can’t kick and if I’m thinking about  _this_ and not, like, exams coming up then I will be an  _actual_ bisexual disaster and no one really wants to see that, let’s be real,” Harper chattered on like a deranged woman with blue hair and a taser built like a bazooka strapped to her back.

“Okay?” Cass continued. “Still don’t… really understand?”

“The touch, the hand… thing. I need to know. Why? Is it just… something you do or is it like… offering a hand in marriage? Or… more likely it’s very mild and something in between there?” Harper pressed.

Cass’ chin tilted up and she nodded sagely. “Ah, yes.”

“Yes what? Cass, I’m going to have a breakdown here we need specifics,” Harper nearly hyperventilated.

“I want you to know… you did good. And I’m proud,” Cass explained. “So… showed you.”

And, in that moment, Harper could  _not_ have been more deflated. “Oh,” she said. Then, internally, she used very bad words to curse her stupid very, very bi brain for the teases.

“Because I like you?” Cass continued, suddenly adding some of her own awkward by rubbing at her neck. “So… yes?”

Harper’s heart nearly grew three sizes that day as she straightened up and felt her cheek warm up. “Oh!  _Yes!”_ Harper laughed, turning to a puddle of feelings as Cass reached over again and stroked her cheek once more. “I knew it the whole time.”


End file.
